


The (Forced) Blog of Dr. Spencer Reid

by madeofbees



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Blogging, Fluff, Local law enforcement is jerks, M/M, Mild homophobia that doesn't last very long at all, Penelope Gives Advice, Reid Overanalyzes Everything, Reid cannot stop overanalyzing everything, Reid doesn't know how to deal with physical contact, Reid is Awkward, Reid is a Dork, Reid is not as subtle as he thinks he is, Reid is not subtle at all, Romance, Silly, Slow Build, as in
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-02-25 14:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2625485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madeofbees/pseuds/madeofbees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spencer Reid has a "little crush" (Penelope's words) and won't stop talking about it (again, to Penelope). In order to get him to shut up, she creates a blog for him because "I need time to myself. And time with JJ and Emily. And time with Sam. And time with my chocolate thunder god of all things naughty." (also Penelope's words). Spencer is skeptical, but goes along with it so "...I can publish this and send it to Penelope and go talk to her." (Spencer's words).</p><p>Super fluffy medium build Reid/Rossi told in the form of a blog.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Entry #1: Penelope Wants Me to Write a Diary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But my god, you have got to find someone else to talk to.

Those words don’t come close to conveying the vehemency at which this suggestion was made. It was a decree, not a suggestion, and a plea for me to leave her alone. Not that we don’t get along, not that we aren’t friends, because we are, but I guess I started taking up too much of her time. She loves gossiping, I’m not really sure what the problem is. I’ve been puzzling over her words, actually, trying to figure out where I went wrong.

“Spence, it’s adorable that you have this little crush of yours, and the fact that it’s on a real person you’ve actually met—oh my god I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I just mean that you and Maeve, you didn’t—I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean anything, and Lila was—well I don’t actually know what happened with that, but my point is that a crush in person, in this time zone, that’s really great, but I have a job, and a life, and my own boyfriend, and I can’t spend every second of every day going over every second of your every day micro analyzing every single word that passed between you two, especially since you literally have every word memorized. I need time to myself. And time with JJ and Emily. And time with Sam. And time with my chocolate thunder god of all things naughty. It’s super flattering that you trust me with your big secret—” _air quotes_ “—but my god, you have got to find someone else to talk to.” _Here her eyes lit up._ “A diary. You need a diary. Preferably pink and sparkly with purple glitter writing on the front that says _My First Diary_ , but given the odds of that happening, I’m going to make you a blog. Now go away so I can work my magic.”

Then she pushed me out of the room, and now I have a blog.

I’m particularly interested in the air quotes around _big secret_ , since I really thought it was a secret. I can’t tell if she was making fun of a _big secret_ being something as relatively mundane as a “little crush” (my own air quotes go here since I’m not convinced it’s little, but those were Penelope’s words, so they’ll have to make do), or if everyone does know, which would be awful, or if she was just trying to kick me out.

Well, I know she was trying to kick me out, but it still seems like it could be related.

In any case, now I have a blog. It comes with instructions—Penelope’s word—or more decrees—mine.

  1.  _Spencer Reid, hereafter known as Spencer, will write no fewer than one blog entries a day, barring a case that requires his full attention._
  2. _Spencer will refer to everyone by their first name so he stops sounding so uptight all the time when he’s actually a thirteen year old girl._
  3. _Spencer will complete his daily blog entry and send it to me before cornering Penelope Garcia, hereafter known as me, in my office and standing between myself and the door and not letting me leave until I give him advice._
  4. _Spencer will send one (1) text a day regarding the matter at hand, hereafter known as pathetic yet adorable school girl crush, to me, and no more._
  5. _Spencer will take me out to lunch at least one day a week as payment for my never-ending patience and web design skills._



So, that’s where I am now. This is my first entry and I’m going to let it stand without adding any real content to keep things clear, neat, and organized.

I’ll see you soon, I guess.

 _2014/10/22, Wednesday.  
_ _Spencer Reid._

 


	2. Entry #2: Post-Case Rituals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We go to his house. His mansion, excuse me.

It’s very common for people to have a ritual they always perform before or after a particular activity, sometimes both. In the case of law enforcement, lawyers, politicians, and other professions that involve winning or losing, having a post-case—or election—action to celebrate a victory is nearly universal. The BAU never used to have one; occasionally we’d go out to dinner together, but it wasn’t common.

It started when Emily came back. The team needed to be reunited, especially after a breach of trust so large. I almost didn’t go because I was so upset, but I did, albeit late. There’s a lot to say about that night, but I’m trying to stay focused, and the only part that’s relevant to this story is that we all went.

While that was the first time, it didn’t become a true ritual right away. He’d invite us over one or two at a time when we needed it, luring with offers of scotch and a home-cooked meal. I’m not sure why he was so resistant for the first dinner and after that opened his home on a regular basis with no prompting and kind invitations, but that’s what happened.

Now, aside from particularly long, difficult cases when we all want to go home, we go to his house. His mansion, excuse me. We have wine, food, good conversation, and the bonding that comes from a repeat, shared experience. It’s not when my “little crush” started (again, Penelope’s words), but it didn’t help. Back then it really was a little crush, but instead of fading away it…didn’t.

Anyway, that’s a long way of saying that I have a standing invitation to spend time with him at his mansion in a social setting. Along with four of our closest friends and coworkers, but still. Penelope keeps telling me to use this to my advantage, find an excuse to stay late, but it hasn’t happened yet. I’m not sure if this is a subconscious hesitance on my part because I’m scared of rejection or if the opportunity hasn’t presented itself yet. I guess we’ll have to see. 

_2014/10/22, Wednesday.  
_ _Spencer Reid._

 


	3. Entry #3: Jungian Dream Theory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems infinitely more pathetic to write about it to an audience of nobody than to have a conversation with a friend, but I’m afraid to ask her if that’s true because I’m almost positive she’ll say it is.

This is what I’ve been putting off. It’s also the reason Penelope is sick of me and insists I blog about it instead of “assaulting her with, like, y’know those puppies that get so clingy and so desperate for attention that even though they’re so cute you want to want to let them lick your face forever, you also want to punch them over and over again until they leave you alone?” Her words, of course. I told her that I don’t lick her face, to which she groaned and shoved me out of her office. It seems infinitely more pathetic to write about it to an audience of nobody than to have a conversation with a friend, but I’m afraid to ask her if that’s true because I’m almost positive she’ll say it is.

Anyway.

I’m in Bismarck, South Dakota. On the flight here, I ended up sitting next to Dave while we discussed the case, he in the window seat, me in the aisle. After the strategy was decided, Dave promptly fell asleep despite his repeated insistence that he doesn’t nap. To be fair, I twas 4:18am, so one could argue that he had gone back to bed. Instead of leaning against the window, he ended up using my shoulder as a pillow.

Brief aside: I feel like my writing skills decrease dramatically when recounting stories about Dave. There’s a plethora of psychological reasons why this would happen, and I don’t appreciate any of them, or the fact itself.

I’m aware he was asleep and it was hardly a conscious decision. In all likelihood the movements of the jet shifted him in my direction. I’ve been trying to stay focused on that instead of sliding into Jungian dream theory, but it’s harder than it should be, though unfortunately not harder than expected. I don’t even know if he was dreaming at all, let alone what he dreams about. It’s a completely useless exercise, and yet I can’t stop.

When we landed and he woke up, he was surprised, embarrassed, and amused. He said “Sorry, kid,” which I hate because I am not a kid, and he’s the last person I want thinking of me diminutively. I told him it was fine, and that’s all that was said on the matter. I wish I had asked if he had been dreaming, but the conversation was over before it began and I didn’t have time.

Observations:

  * He uses Italian cologne. It smells like comfort, which I’m aware is incorrect and irrational.
  * His shampoo is expensive and smells like it. My guess is Bumble and Bumble, but I’d have to do research to confirm.
  * His head should have been uncomfortably heavy and bony, but it wasn’t.
  * I would really like this to be a repeat event.



And a very happy late Halloween! It’s my favorite holiday, but celebrations are being deferred until we get back home. I’m unreasonably curious what, if anything, Dave will dress up as. I’m planning on going as the 4th Doctor, since last time I cosplayed him I was interrupted. It was extremely dissatisfying.

_2014/11/01, Saturday._   
_Spencer Reid._


	4. Entry #4: Do You Wanna Build A Snowman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _...and since then the idea has nestled itself into the front of my mind and I can’t shake the need to try it myself._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IN WHICH SPENCER IS A GIANT DORK K THNX BYE

Penelope recently made me watch Frozen so I would “loosen up and stop being afraid to show who I am”, which I find ridiculous. I don’t know how to be anyone other than me. The look she gave me may have inferred something about telling Dave how I feel, but since romantic love was the opposite of what the movie was about, I’m choosing to ignore it.

That said.

She showed me a parody of the song _Do You Wanna Build a Snowman?_ called [_Will You Help Me Hide a Body?_](http://https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R3X0Cqn_fM0) I found it fascinating, not for the content per se, but that linguistically, you can do virtually anything with that song. Further research shows there are a virtually uncountable number of parodies, and since then the idea has nestled itself into the front of my mind and I can’t shake the need to try it myself.

I came up with three of my own:

 **Do You Wanna Go On a Job?  
** Do you wanna go on a job?  
Come on, let’s go and fly!  
I haven’t seen Badger in years,  
Or Patience either.  
It’s like they’ve gone away!  
I know she shot at you,  
He sold you out,  
We need the work;  
I think we can risk it, _yé_?  
Do you wanna go on a job?  
It doesn’t have to be with Patience… 

 **Do You Wanna Travel with Me?  
** Do you wanna travel with me?  
We can go anywhere!  
Time and relative dimension,  
Forwards, backwards,  
See the sights, hear the sounds!  
Sometimes there are wars, heartbreak;  
We can help them,  
Long as it’s not a fixed point!  
Do you wanna travel with me?  
I warn you: there’s a lot of running… 

 **Do You Wanna Go Out With Me?  
** Do you wanna go out with me?  
You aren’t expecting this.  
I think it would be really good  
Or disaster,  
It’s really hard to tell!  
I don’t want to ruin this,  
Our friendship, no.  
But wouldn’t it be so grand!  
Do you wanna go out with me?  
I know it’s a strange proposition… 

I would prefer not to comment on the last one, thank you.

 


	5. Entry #5: Derek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I think Derek knows something._

I think Derek knows something. I’m pretty sure that _he’s_ not sure what, but I’m also pretty sure he knows _something_. I want to blame Penelope, since she tells him everything, but I don’t think she’d do that to me. Really, it’s my fault for thinking I can keep a secret in a group of profilers.

He definitely doesn’t know that it’s Dave, which is a blessed relief. As far as I can tell, he knows something is going on with me, and he’s ninety-something percent sure that it has to do with a girl. Penelope and JJ are the only ones who know I’m bisexual; I don’t hide it, it just doesn’t usually come up, which is good because it’s less likely someone will figure out I have a crush on Dave, but also a problem, since it would never occur to Dave to look at me that way.

Not that there’s any reason for him to regardless, but.

Derek is patient, but he also lives to tease. I’m not sure how long he can go before bringing it up. It’ll be easy enough to deflect, since last time this happened he said I had a _girl_ friend, and I can easily say no, and if he asks if it’s about girls in general, it’s still no. He can always tell when I’m lying, it’s infuriating. Unless he’s figured out that I’m bisexual, it shouldn’t be a problem, and I doubt he spends a lot of time paying attention to my sex life.

Not only would it not occur to Dave to look at me, I’m not even certain that _he’s_ bisexual. He’s made a comment here and there about finding a man attractive, but that doesn’t mean he’d be interested in a relationship or sex with one. Finding someone aesthetically pleasing is a tiny part of human sexuality, and I really don’t know anything else about his, just that he’s had three wives, and was with Erin Strauss for a year. One could argue that four long-term relationships (that I know of) with women is pretty conclusive evidence towards him being straight, but one could also say that they might have failed because he’s been repressing latent homosexual desires.

I need to not think about this.

_2014/11/06, Thursday.  
_ _Spencer Reid._


	6. Entry #6: A Letter From My Mom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I think this is best presented without commentary, although I have a **lot** to say about it. A very long phone conversation followed the arrival of this letter, only stopped because my mom had group._

_I think this is best presented without commentary, although I have a_ **_lot_ ** _to say about it. A very long phone conversation followed the arrival of this letter, only stopped because my mom had group._

 

—

 

Spencer—

I can tell when you’re hiding something from me. You’ve always been a terrible liar, and just because I’m writing you from across the country doesn’t mean I can’t tell what you’re up to. Mothers are animals, Spencer. Stop forgetting, you’re smarter than that.

Now, I don’t know which member of your team you’re in love with, but my advice is the same: as long as they aren’t already in a relationship, go. Take what’s yours. Pounce, Spencer. Make me a grandmother.

That was a joke, don’t worry.

But I’m serious. You’ve always been too withdrawn. You deserve someone to make you happy. Someone to love you and take care of you when I’m not there. You aren’t confident when it comes to people and I won’t have you ruin a chance at happiness because you’re convinced you aren’t good enough. I raised you. You’re perfect. You have no reason to be afraid. And what if it doesn’t work out? So what? You pick yourself back up and keep going.

Personally, I hope it’s that older guy who took you to be hypnotized when you were investigating Riley Jenkins. Don’t ask how it got back to me, I have spies everywhere (not a delusion, I keep in touch with some of your friends; don’t worry, we almost never make fun of you). I know he took care of you and I know he put your well-being before anything else. Who cares that he’s older? He’s good for you, Spencer, and I haven’t even met him. He’s also very attractive, but I’m sure you know that.

Try to find a case in Vegas so I can meet him and see how you interact. A mother always knows if someone is Interested in her son. And yes, I did capitalize “interested”. You know why. At least get him on the phone so I can threaten him if he hurts you. You can take care of yourself, but I’m an animal. I’ll fly all the way out and murder him in his sleep if he touches one hair on your head with anything other than respect.

Another joke. It makes the doctors more comfortable if I clarify when I’m joking about violence. I know you’re smart enough to know when I’m serious.

That said, I am serious. One thing about being in a loony bin: you hear about a lot of crazy ways to hurt people.

“Joke.”

Take care of yourself, Spencer. Keep away from the bad cases. I know those are the ones that draw you in, but it’s not healthy. Be careful. And if you get shot again, tell me. I don’t like hearing about it secondhand from my spies.

Stay safe. Be brave.

 

_2014/11/07, Friday.  
_ _Spencer Reid._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow did you know this exists and not only that but I have more written than is published? I keep forgetting about it. Bad Nicole. I'll try to start updating regularly again.


	7. Entry #7: After Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I guess it’s technically progress, but it really didn’t feel like it.

I did it. I stayed after everyone else left at Dave’s at our last post-case dinner.

I don’t think he even noticed it was unusual.

I’m trying not to wallow or feel dejected about it but it’s hard, and I hate that it’s hard. I’m pathetic and I _hate_ it. And Penelope won’t talk to me about it until I write it out because apparently I have a tendency to take a really long time to explain something very simple and it makes her learn more about math than she wants to know, so she’d rather read it first and skip the “fascinating to people who aren’t me and aren’t normal and don’t know the definition of fun” parts.

Here is the very simple version: 

  * People left, and as they were leaving I asked Dave if he had any ice cream because I was craving ice cream.
  * Dave said he did not, in fact, have ice cream, but he had gelato, and asked if my palette was refined enough for such a decadent frozen dessert.
  * I said it was, but I don’t actually know if that’s true, because I didn’t know gelato was decadent and I’m not actually clear on the difference between gelato and ice cream, but that didn’t seem like the time to bring it up.
  * He said in that case, I was more than welcome to stay for gelato.
  * I had gelato.
  * There was small talk.
  * I left.



That was it. I guess it’s technically progress, but it really didn’t feel like it. I am feeling dejected, whether I want to be or not, and I am feeling pathetic, which I absolutely should be.

This is ridiculous. It was gelato, it’s not something to get worked up over.

I’m going to stop writing so I can publish this and send it to Penelope and go talk to her. Maybe she’ll have advice other than “get your head out of your ass and enjoy yourself”, which was her advice regarding the falling-asleep-on-my-shoulder incident.

_2014/11/12, Wednesday.  
_ _Spencer Reid._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to finish publishing what I have, one entry a day, and then hopefully get muse and write some more. There are ten entries so far, so that's another half a week or so. I'm trying so hard to un-abandon stories; I made a list and everything.
> 
> I also have some more Snaco coming up. I wrote two short stories, both smutty three chapters, ages ago when I was only on ff.net, and I almost had my account deleted for publishing smut (don't even get me started) so I think they'll show up over here. I need to edit them again, but if smutty Snaco is your thing, its arrival is imminent.


	8. Entry #Whatever: Is it really hacking if I set up the password?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Live from Quantico, VA, it is the divine Ms. Penelope. Los Angeles, you're our first and favorite caller. Talk to me.

TO DOCTOR SUPERVISORY SPECIAL AGENT SPENCER REID:

_Live from Quantico, VA, it is the divine Ms. Penelope. Los Angeles, you're our first and favorite caller. Talk to me._

GO FIND SUPERVISORY SPECIAL AGENT DAVID ROSSI AND EXPLICITLY ASK HIM ON A DATE  
I’M SICK OF THE CULTURAL IMPLICATIONS OF GELATO  
NOBODY CARES BUT YOU  
GO  
NOW  
FORTHWITH  
OR WHATEVER YOU SAY  
ALLONS-Y  
GET OUT OF MY OFFICE AND GO ASK HIM OUT _THIS INSTANT_  

YOURS TRULY,  
DIDN’T VOLUNTEER TO BE SUPERVISORY EXTRAORDINARILY SPECIAL NOT AN AGENT AT ALL PENELOPE GARCIA 

P.S.  
I HAVE OFFICIALLY BLESSED YOU  
NOW **_GO AWAY_**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter summary/italicized quote are from _Sense Memory_ , S6E14.


	9. Entry #9: My Wrist is Tingling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Dave grabbed my wrist, and that successfully cut off my tirade. I had no memory of what I was about to say, and only the vaguest recollection of what we were talking about in the first place. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go.”_

Before I start writing, I should say that I have not followed Penelope’s advice, and that I have changed my password.

That aside.

We’re in Franklin, South Carolina. It’s a tiny, hick town with an unsub killing gay men, almost certainly due to repressed homosexual urges and the accompanying guilt from a background so religious it’s on par with brainwashing. He’s white, in his mid-to-late twenties, likely caring for an ailing parent, most probably his father. He’s mobile and has space to keep his victims for several days and soundproofing to allow for it.

Sorry, that was work.

The sherif and I don’t get along. Actually, I don’t get along with almost anyone here. I hate to use stupid as an insult, but in all honesty, these are some of the stupidest, most close-minded people I have ever met. This has been one of those cases where I actively need another agent at my side to translate what I’m saying because the sherif literally didn’t know the word tangentially.

How are there people who don’t know what tangentially means?

Anyway, the sherif started to rescind his invitation to the BAU on the grounds of “the guy’s practically a hero, riddin’ our town of abominations the way he is.” I was there, along with Dave and Aaron. I’m aware I should have let Aaron take care of it, but that didn’t happen. Not right away, not soon enough.

“Excuse me?” I burst out. “Abominations? Homosexuality is as natural as—”

“There ain’t nothing natural ‘bout two men doin’ what they’ve been doin’,” Sheriff Clark interrupted.

“—heterosexuality, if not more so,” I continued. “It’s been around for as long as recorded history, and ‘doin’ what they’re doin’ is nothing more than a perfectly natural way of showing their love for each other.”

“‘Love’ that God Himself wrote down to be a sin,” Clark shot back.

I’m not stupid. I can read social cues, at least enough to know that it was time for me to stop talking. I didn’t, but I did know I should have.

“First, your supposed God didn’t write anything. The Bible was written by men, as fallible as you or me—especially you. Second, I assume you’re referring to Leviticus 18:22; do you have any idea how many interpretations there are of that passage, almost none of which have anything to do with homosexuality? Not once in the Bible does God condemn it, and by the way, do your uniforms contain polyester? Because that is explicitly stated as a sin.”

“Reid,” Aaron cut in sharply.

“For all we know, maybe you’re the unsub,” I continued. “You certainly have the irrational hatred that fits the profile, and given how adamant you are, I wouldn’t at all be surprised if you get yourself off thinking about—”

“ _Reid_ ,” Aaron yelled. “Get out. Go take a walk.”

I spun to face him. “Why are you defending this hick of a—”

Dave grabbed my wrist, and that successfully cut off my tirade. I had no memory of what I was about to say, and only the vaguest recollection of what we were talking about in the first place.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Dave led me out of the room while Aaron placated Sheriff Clark. I followed without protest, too focused on the feel of his hand to put up a fight. It was warm and strong and his fingers were the sort of smooth that comes with a life devoid of hard labor. His thumb was on my pulse and I’m nearly positive that was an accident, but it was just as terrifying than if it had been intentional. Presumably, he attributed my elevated heart rate to the fact that I was upset. He led us into an empty interrogation room, closed the door, and looked at me with a mixture of surprise, anger, and concern. He was still holding my wrist.

“What the hell was that?”

I opened my mouth with no idea of what I was going to say, other than it probably shouldn’t be _why are you still holding onto me?_

“I don’t like ignorance.”

“Neither do I, but is that really an excuse to antagonize our already tenuous relationship with the only person allowing us to continue to find a killer?” Dave asked.

“Yes,” I replied immediately. “Well. No. Probably not.”

“You know he’s not the unsub,” he replied, almost gently. “This isn’t like you. What’s going on?”

 _You’re still touching me_ , I thought.

“I’m just tired,” I lied. “I’m behind on caffeine, the withdrawal is making me irritable.”

Dave raised an eyebrow. “Uh huh.”

I huffed. “Why doesn’t anyone ever believe me?”

“Because you’re a terrible liar and you spend all your time with profilers,” he replied with a bit of a smile. “Sounds like this is personal.”

I looked away. “So what? We’ve all had personal cases. You came out of retirement to solve your own cold case. I don’t like homophobia. So sue me.”

“Still sounds personal,” Dave said. “Have a close encounter with the phobic kind?”

I couldn’t stop a small smile. “No, not I just—wait.” I met his eyes again. “You know I’m not straight?”

Dave laughed. “Spencer, _everyone_ knows you aren’t straight. You really need to work on your subtlety.”

_Wait what? They do?_

“I—o-okay then, yes, it hits a nerve,” I stammered. 

_Why are you still holding my wrist?_

Dave let go, and immediately I felt the loss. “It’s hard, I know, but you’ve got to keep it together. You don’t want a murderer walking because you got us kicked off the case, do you?”

“No,” I said. “No, of course not.”

“All right, then.” Dave put his hand on my shoulder for a split second before dropping it. “Now why don’t you take that walk while Aaron and I clean up your mess.”

I flushed. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” He smiled at me again, then left.

I’m writing this entry on my phone on a park bench instead of walking. I really need to get back to work, but I had to post it, it’s too important. Analysis will come later.

 

_2014/11/15, Saturday.  
_ _Spencer Reid._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahaha this exists goddammit. There's one chapter left after this one that's written. I really want to be writing, like so badly, but I haven't had any muse and even the thought has been giving me panic attacks. I'm going to try. Really I am. I'm in _such_ a Rossi/Reid mood, you'd think it'd be blindingly easy.
> 
> NOPE


	10. Entry #10: Chained to His Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the incident with Sheriff Clark, Dave became my--well, I don't have a better word than handler.

We're on the jet on the way back home, and I'm taking an unnecessarily large risk by writing this while Dave is sitting next to me. I've wedged myself against the window so I'm turned towards him and I'm on my phone so I don't think he can see me, but I haven't had a moment's peace in days, and I have to get this out. The calculated risk has become necessary.

Even though I'm relatively certain he's aware I'm hiding something, and only slightly because of how I'm sitting.

After the incident with Sheriff Clark, Dave became my--well, I don't have a better word than handler. I wasn't part of the conversation, but he and Aaron exchanged a few quiet words and from then on, he was all but glued to my side. If I hadn't been flustered before that certainly didn't help, although it did serve its purpose of keeping me largely silent, only speaking when I had something to say that was directly relevant to the case. Which was uncommonly and embarrassingly rarely, and judging from the looks I got from Emily as well as Derek, highly suspicious. I really need to do something about that, come up with done logical explanation, but since I've been chained to Dave's side, I haven't exactly had the chance.

As for Dave himself, I find myself in the extremely uncomfortable position of being simultaneously speechless and horrifically candid. Nothing happened after he held my wrist in that there was no further physical contact and we didn't talk about my sexuality again (thank god), but he kept giving me these looks, like he was waiting for me to say something, but maybe he was just waiting for me to go on another rant to the locals which was, after all, the reason why we were assigned to work together, so he could keep an eye on me. I just didn't think he'd be doing it so literally, or so... Curiously? Is that the right word? I'd ask Penelope but she wasn't there to see, and I don't want to give Emily or Morgan any ideas.

A list of possible adjectives for the way Dave was looking at me (more than one may be applicable):

  * Curious
  * Intense
  * Confused
  * Intrigued
  * Wanting to say something
  * Waiting for me to say something
  * Other



I'm aware those last three aren't adjectives, but he's started giving me those looks again, right now, as I type, and it's making it very har to think.

Amusement?

I need to put my phone away before he sees something. Although if he--or Aaron--could explain to me why I still need to be looked after on the plane ride home after the case is solved and we're nowhere near South Carolina I'd really appreciate it because as of right now I can't think of a single reason why David Rossi is still sitting next to me instead of finally enjoying a break from my admittedly transitorally difficult personality.

_2014/11/18, Monday._   
_Spencer Reid._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow hi there! So um I exist? And have muse for this? Who would've thought! I've been catching up on s11 and there's so much Rossi/Reid if you look in the right places oh my gosh and I've been feeling the writing niggling at me in general and this is really low stress so I figured why not go for it! I did write it on my phone and I edited as best I could but if there are any mistakes, that's why. I'm hoping to start updating regularly again but who knows I guess? I have a ton of health stuff that's all over the place and so yeah, it can be really hard, but I'm gonna try. I hope you enjoy!!


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